


There's light at the end of the tunnel

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:26:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25537291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Grief nightmares are making night-time a (no pun intended) nightmare for the reader. Luckily, Sam and Dean can sympathise and offer to help however they can.
Kudos: 6





	There's light at the end of the tunnel

Something was up with Y/N, Dean was certain of it. She'd been slightly off for the past week, and he could swear she'd yawned at least thirty times since breakfast. It was now past one in the morning and they really did need lights out soon but, despite her obvious exhaustion, it didn't look like she'd be putting on her pyjamas anytime soon.

"Y/N come on," Dean tried. "It's late. We've got an early start tomorrow. We'll need to be up for the case. Are you even planning to sleep tonight?"

"No," she replied, very sullenly.

Dean opened and then closed his mouth. Then he did it again. Sam only raised his eyebrows. 

"Look, if you two need to sleep, that's fine. I'll go and sit in the car or something. I'm just sorry I kept you up so long."

The brothers shared a look. Something was clearly up and, if they wanted to get anything out of her, they'd have to proceed cautiously.

"Y/N, if you really want to do that, that's fine. But maybe we should get you another room. Being outside alone, now? I don't think that's wise."

"I'll be fine, I'm trained, remember? We don't need to waste our hard-earned - it is hard-earned Sam, hustling isn't exactly easy - money on another motel room."

"Being trained, even highly trained, isn't good enough," Sam said gently. "Not with what might be after us, not with the targets that are constantly on our backs."

"Fine, fine, you're right," Y/N sighed, pacing restlessly around the cheaply furnished room. "I'll sit and wait for morning in the bathroom."

Dean had thought of this solution, but he'd hoped Y/N hadn't. They were going on another hunt tomorrow, dammit, and exhaustion got you killed. He didn't want his beloved best friend/sister killed. So he'd just have to do what good best friends/brothers do and work out what was really bothering her and then tackle it, head-on.

He walked softly up to her and caught her shoulders carefully but with enough force to make her stop pacing. She was clearly extremely wound up as even his light touch made her shudder before she closed her eyes and breathed out slowly. After that exercise, he could still feel her tenseness, though it was slightly reduced compared to what it had been before. 

"What's the matter Y/N?" he asked her. "We're family. We talk about things."

She nodded and looked at Sam, perhaps for support, or maybe just hoping she could take strength from him, from his eyes or the kindness he generally showed her and Dean. He nodded encouragingly, obviously waiting for her to talk.

"It's so stupid, I don't want to seem weak. There's no reason for any of this. If I could just be a bit stronger, more in control, none of this would be a problem. But you're right too, this isn't helping, and anyway this is stupider and I'm being bloody weak right now, even though I'm trying so damn hard not to be."

"No, you're not," Dean told her, "You're being tired, you're being human, you're being upset. There's a difference."

"You wouldn't expect either of us to be strong all the time, would you?" Sam asked her.

"No," she said instantly.

"I know you Y/N. You're harder on yourself than you are on anyone else. But, as brilliant as you are, you shouldn't be holding yourself to a higher standard than you hold Dean and me to. You're allowed to not be perfect, to be weak at times, shocking as I know that may sound to you. Being upset, being angry - that's all okay. That's normal."

"Uncle Greg used to tell me that," she said. "He always was so wise."

"And he wouldn't have wanted you to suffer alone either, sweetheart," Dean reminded her. "We're here and we're listening. We can help you."

"I know. I trust you two. But I miss him. I miss him so much. It was bad before but now the nightmares. That's kind of what this is about. I can't stop dreaming about him. Just out of the blue and here they are. Can't say what triggered them. Can't even say why now. But they're hard. You'd think I'd give anything to see his face again and I thought I would, but then in the dream, he's dying, always dying, and it just hurts so bad," she finished, voice breaking.

"It's okay, it's alright," Dean comforted, rubbing her back, "I'm glad you told us. It's hard, I know just how hard all this is. But I can also promise you that it'll be okay. It will get better. Now, what do you say Sam gets your toothbrush and we all start getting ready to get into bed and sleep."

"I know we should. I should. But I don't wa-"

"It'll be alright. You can sleep in my bed if you like. We'll try to keep the nightmares away. The only way out of this is through it. And you're strong, even if you feel weak. You'll get through this, I swear."

"And Y/N," Sam said gently. "However bad the grief is, whatever unexpected things it throws at you, it will never destroy you. We're right here by your side."

"You mean," she said slowly, thoughtfully. "That the dreams can't destroy me, even if they're more painful than I've ever had before."

Sam nodded, pulling her into a hug. "It's awful, I know that. But I also know that you will be okay. We'll get you through this. You'll get you through this. Whatever it takes. Whatever helps. Sad films, a therapist, quiet afternoons. Time will take the sting away but, in the meantime, we'll do anything we can to help.

"Thank you," she smiled.

"Don't mention it," Sam said.

"We're here, always. Now get into bed, troublesome child," Dean teased, in a deliberately terrible imitation of a disgruntled mother and, laughing through her tears, Y/N did so. 


End file.
